Don't Do Drugs
by Megilhirile
Summary: Ron and Hermione are destined for each other, and yet they can never get along. Do they stand a chance? This story tells of their struggle to discover each other's affection, helped by the wise, all-knowing Albus Dumbledore.
1. A Chance Encounter

Title: Don't Do Drugs! (Thanks to Bex! Her banner inspired this story!) Author: Ama Pairings: Ron/Hermione (Don't Do Drugs!*wink*) Rating: PG-13 Note: Third person omniscient narrative arranged to conveniently portray the action concerned with furthering the plot. All descriptions and images are significant to later parts of the narrative. (Boy! this sounds like something for English class!)  
  
Disclaimer: All characters and locations within this story are the property of J.K. Rowling. The plot is mine.  
  
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Hiccupping, the stumbling, redheaded boy led a group of ready, anxious first-years down a dark, dank corridor, which would eventually lead to the Gryffindor Common Room. He trumbled along, nearly toppling over every time a hiccup interrupted his slow and faulty, yet determined, step. With each encumbering hiccup, the worried first-years stumbled over each other as they struggled to support the toppling leader before he fell. In this slow, inefficient way, the group of students made their way down the irksome hallway.  
  
A few hallways away, another prefect led a similar group of students down a similar hallway. However, this prefect was not handicapped by troublesome hiccups, and her students didn't have to stumble over each other to support her. She of the buoyant, brown curls led the students with a hurried, pompous stride, scolding the younger, clumsier legs when they couldn't keep up with her fast pace. As she guided the students along the empty corridor, the girl gave notable lectures on the school's rules, as well as its history and the significance of its architecture, quoting from one of her favorite books: Hogwarts, A History.  
  
Several floors above the two antithetical prefects, the school's headmaster sat in his office, watching the progress of the two on one of his numerous, glittering silver instruments. He stared intensely at the images of the two wandering prefects as they drew nearer and nearer to each other. He surveyed anxiously the image of the stumbling, drunk, redheaded boy as he blundered closer to the responsible, curly haired girl that was excitedly sharing her knowledge with the first-years. He knew before it happened that the two would collide, and he silently counted down the seconds until it would happen. 10...9...8...the girl glanced expectantly back at her charges as she asked them a question, rounding the corner into the next hallway...3...2...the boy tripped over his feet as he hiccupped once more, and the two collided.  
  
"Hey! Wotchwhuryoorgwing!" slurred the boy, tumbling to his feet with the help of the big-eyed first-years that he was leading.  
  
"You don't have to tell me to watch where I'm going, Ron Weasley!" the sixth-year girl responded vehemently. "I should be yelling at you for acting the way you are around a bunch of first-years! You should know better than that! How will they ever learn to respect you when you act so irresponsibly the first time that they are put under your care?"  
  
The redheaded boy stopped, staring at the girl dejectedly while trying to percolate a comeback. He couldn't devise one, and sighed in contempt. The girl almost felt sorry for him, but then he hiccupped, and it reminded her that he had caused all of the trouble himself. She opened her mouth to begin scolding him again, but on her sharp intake of breath, he fumblingly raised his hand in a gesture to make her stop, and sighed again.  
  
"Just stop, Hermione," he asserted before she said something. "I know," he continued, "just let me go without yelling at me too much."  
  
Upon another sigh from him, Hermione's back lost its rigidity, and she managed to whisper okay before he turned away, annoyed, and continued to lead the younger students on to the portrait of the Fat Lady. She turned back to the pupils she was leading, who were staring open-mouthed at the boy's receding back. She realized then that she still had duties to do, and she called out to her students.  
  
"Okay, first-years, follow me," she yelled, guiding the students onward. "The password for the next few weeks will be porcupine bile. Remember that, but don't write it down. We don't want any nasty Slytherins finding their way into our Common Room." At this, a few the first years laughed nervously. "I will let you know when we receive a new password," she continued. Sighing, Hermione led the first-years through the portrait hole when it swung open, and showed them to their dormitories. She gazed longingly up the stairwell to the sixth-year boys' dormitory before finding her way to her own dorm room, where Lavender and Parvati were waiting for her. Her heart lurched as she undressed and climbed into bed. He'll never figure it out, she thought, before closing her eyes and going to sleep.  
  
As lights turned out all over the school, Albus Dumbledore turned his eyes from the silver instrument he was staring at. "Maybe they will discover more about their feelings this year, Fawkes. Goodness knows I hope they do."  
  
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	2. An Unpleasant Morning

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A long, dark, sleepy night drifted slowly by as the students of Hogwarts slept dreamily, excited by the Start-of-Term Feast and anxious to start the new year. The first rays of golden sunlight eventually broke the long darkness, and the students stirred. Soon the whole castle was flooded with light, and the morning hustle and bustle began as birds began to chirp brightly, yards away in the Forbidden Forest, the usual haven for all things dark and mysterious.  
  
But this particular morning, the whole world was bright and cheerful. All darkness was stamped out by the exuberant rays of light that bounced their way into every dark crevice and cranny. Even Snape's dungeons-where he sat in his office, impatiently awaiting the start of a new year when he could mentally torture a new set of students-were filled with light this joyful morning.  
  
Off in an opposite end of the castle, a green-eyed boy with dark hair that stuck up in all directions abruptly waked a young, redheaded boy. The dark-haired boy whispered softly to the sleeping one.  
  
"Ron, it's time to wake up! We have to go to breakfast!" The redheaded boy mumbled a response, then rolled over, pulled the thick, scarlet covers over his violent red hair, and immediately began to snore. The dark-haired boy began to shake the redheaded one determinedly. He continued to do so for approximately five minutes, until a short, squat boy with a round face and dumb expression caught his attention.  
  
"Harry, we're going to be late; hurry up!"  
  
"Alright, Neville, you go on down. I'll get Ron up and meet you down there." As Neville reluctantly left the room, Harry stood up, exited the room, walked down the hallway to the lavatory with a cup in hand, and returned a few minutes later with the cup filled to the brim. He walked briskly across the bedroom, and solemnly dumped the water over Ron's angry red locks. Ron immediately sat bolt upright.  
  
The red-haired boy kicked the covers back, turned so that his feet hung off the side of the tall four-poster bed, and slid slowly to his feet. As soon as he stood, however, the boy slumped to the floor. His throbbed, and he barely heard as Harry questioned him: "Ron, are you alright?"  
  
Ron turned his head to squint in the direction of the voice, since the room was spinning and his head throbbed mercilessly. His eyes focused first on a red, lightning bolt scar that was covered by unruly black bangs.  
  
"Oh, hi…Harry. Yeah, I think I'm *hiccup* alright…I think." A confused look crossed his face, and Harry tried unsuccessfully to squelch a chuckle as it shot straight out of his mouth. Ron glared at the handsome, scar-faced boy as he desperately searched the aquarium, which stood in the opposite corner of the room, for his school clothes. He was soon covered in water, and Harry, laughing, steered him in the direction of his trunk.   
  
"Thanks Harry," Ron said brightly, and then vomited into his school things. Harry raised his eyebrows and then hurried to help his friend stand. The red-haired boy slumped on Harry's shoulders, and Harry struggled to support the lanky boy's weight. In this difficult manner, Harry guided-or, rather, carried-Ron to the bathroom down the hall, where he led Ron into one of the bathroom stalls. He positioned the boy in front of one of the fancy porcelain toilets.  
  
Ron started to open his mouth to mutter an apology, but his stomach heaved and he slouched over the toilet as his guts heaved into the porcelain basin. Harry blanched and went to wash his face and hands. Breakfast was almost over, and his stomach protested angrily that it didn't have any food.  
  
"Hey, Ron!" Harry called to the Boy-With-The-Hangover.  
  
"Yeah?" came the despondent answer.  
  
"I think my stomach wants to try out for the position of Gryffindor team mascot!" Ron laughed in the telltale drunk way, a bit too loudly and a bit too enthusiastically. His laugh gurgled in his throat as he was interrupted by another dry stomach heave.  
  
Listening to the sounds of a sick sixteen-year-old experiencing his first hangover, Harry sighed. He should've known that this would happen. He shouldn't've skipped the Start-of-Term Feast. He was beginning to regret convincing Ron to sneak away to Hogsmeade while Hermione and the other Hogwarts students celebrated the new year. Once again, the scar-faced boy sighed, and turned to help Ron wipe his face and stand up as the sounds of a heaving stomach stopped.  
  
Down in the Great Hall, Albus Dumbledore gazed despairingly at the empty spaces next to Hermione, who was also looking worriedly at the empty spaces. As Hermione whispered to Neville, Dumbledore gestured to the person at his right hand. Minerva McGonagall, who knew exactly what he was thinking, rushed off to check on the two missing boys in Gryffindor Tower. Dumbledore sighed, rubbed his old, weary eyes, and stood up to call an end to the breakfast feast. 


End file.
